Even if the World Fell
by blue-crystal-9
Summary: When Mustang has trouble sorting out his thoughts, he goes looking for Hawkeye. Roy/Riza, manga spoilers. One-shot.


**Title:** Even if the World Fell

**Author:** blue-crystal-9

**Rating:** PG/K+

**Pairing:** Roy/Riza (Royai)

**Spoilers:** For the most recent chapters in the manga, so spoilers up to around chapter 92.

**Warnings:** Nothing.

**Summary:** When Mustang has trouble sorting out his thoughts, he goes looking for Hawkeye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its respective characters, Arakawa Hiromu does. I am not gaining any profit from this; it is for entertainment purposes only.

**Author's Notes:** This is not the first FMA fic I've written, just the first one I felt was completely ready to post. I have about four others sitting on my computer, either half finished or waiting to be edited. I need to learn to finish things. –lol- ;) This is also posted on LiveJournal and MediaMiner.

**Timeline:** This takes place sometime shortly after Hawkeye and the others deserted the military and went with Mustang to overthrow the Fuhrer. Yay. :3 I love that they did that.

I'm not sure if I like this fic entirely or not. My writing's taken on a strangely vague, dream-like tone and it's making me unsure of myself. :\

**Even if the World Fell**

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_What happens when all your dreams are lying on the ground?_

_Do you pick up all the pieces all around?_

_And if the world should fall apart hold on to what you know_

_Take your chances, turn around and go_

_All the leaves are turning and the sky fades to gray_

_Strange how life coincides with the seasons of today_

_But who's to say how the wind will blow_

'_Chapter One'_ by Lifehouse

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It was a rainy night; one of those nights that made Mustang either grumpy or depressed. He hated the rain, and tonight he was especially bothered by it.

Tonight he was both grumpy _and_ depressed.

He'd fallen asleep around dusk and slept dreamless for a few hours until the rain had awoken him, the night much later than it had been before he'd dozed off. The darkness of the night and the dreary rain were making him think of things he did not want to think about; Ishbal, Hughes's death, and what might happen if they failed to overthrow the Fuhrer.

So in times like these he went looking for his Lieutenant, who would banish those thoughts away with her dry sarcasm and subtle comfort. He went searching for her in the sitting room where she had resided a few hours ago. She had been curled up on the couch along with one of the well worn books she'd found in the tiny library. But she was no longer there now. Breda and Fuery had gone to bed hours ago, but he had a feeling Hawkeye would still be awake; she seemed to rarely sleep. Or perhaps she only slept after he had fallen asleep, he was never quite sure.

He went up the creaky old stairs to the second level and noticed there was a light shining from under the door of the bathroom. Ah, she was probably taking a bath. He stood a few feet from the door, debating whether to interrupt her or to leave her alone and wait until she was finished.

Impulsiveness, as usual, won over with Roy Mustang.

He knocked on the door, saying softly, "Hawkeye?"

Mustang heard a splash of water, and a slightly surprised, "Sir?"

"Unlock the door; I need to talk to you for a moment." He heard the click of the lock and the swish of the curtain. He opened the door a crack and peered in cautiously, making sure all was decent before he entered.

He could see the outline of her form in the tub behind the shower curtain, but forced himself not to look too closely. Mustang sat on the rug on the floor by the tub, leaning his back against the cool ceramic. He stretched one foot out, and propped the other up, wrapping his arms around it in order to rest his chin on them. Once he was settled comfortably he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"What is it sir?" As usual, she knew his mood almost the moment he entered the room. "Is the rain bothering you?"

"Yes. I hate the rain." He muttered, sounding very much like a petulant child.

"I know sir." Mustang could hear the amusement in her voice. "What's wrong?"

Ah, no nonsense, get-down-to-the-point Hawkeye as usual. Her stability was a comfort.

"I'm in funny mood; my thoughts are all distorted. I blame the rain."

"Ah." She murmured. "Are you feeling misgivings?"

It was eerie how well she knew him; it was as though she could read his mind.

"I suppose so." He answered after a moment.

He heard the water splash a bit and then the curtain was pulled back slightly. He titled his head up to see Hawkeye peering out at him from the small opening. Her eyes were soft. "I have faith in you sir. We all do. It will turn out all right."

"Let's hope so." Mustang said quietly, his dark bangs falling in his eyes to conceal his doubt.

He felt a gentle hand brush back the hair, and then he saw Hawkeye's eyes looking into his own intently. Her gaze was almost stern, as if to say, '_Stop doubting yourself!_' Instead she said firmly, "It _will_ be alright."

Mustang nodded in response, captivated by her amber gaze. Her eyes which were usually so masked with indifference were gentle. He couldn't help himself, and reached up to wipe away a stray droplet of water on her cheek as an excuse for the obvious caress. Hawkeye gave no sign of being startled except for a slight widening of her eyes.

He let his eyes stray for just a few seconds, tracing across the small amount of exposed skin he could see in the sliver of the open curtain. The dip of her shoulder, the slightest hint of the subtle curve of her breast, her pale throat. His thumb brushed dangerously close to her lips.

"Sir." It was a quiet reminder of who they were, and what they had yet to accomplish before they could be anything past what they were now. It broke him out of his stupor, and he shut his eyes for a moment in order to collect himself before reopening them.

He shouldn't even be in there anyway.

"I'm going to go make some tea." He murmured before standing up. He allowed himself to brush his fingertips once more against her cheekbone before leaving the bathroom. It was as much as he could touch her at the moment.

But he had waited years and years for Riza Hawkeye, and he could wait a while longer. He was sure she had done the same, if not more. And when the time came for them, it would be glorious.

A few minutes later Mustang found himself in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil and tapping his fingers impatiently against the countertop. He heard the quiet tread of feet behind him, and didn't need to look to know who it was. Gentle, cool fingers suddenly pressed against his free hand. Her fingers were slightly calloused from years of handing guns, a contrast from his hands which were soft from being constantly encased in gloves. He looked down at her; she was in her loose pyjamas and her hair was down, still damp from her bath. She looked natural, comfortable, the opposite of the stiff way she had looked in her military uniform that he had been so accustomed to seeing.

Hawkeye held on to his hand for a moment before squeezing it once then letting go. She gave him that small, half smile of hers and he gave her a smirk in return. Suddenly he felt at ease again, the doubtful thoughts disappearing.

Even if the world fell, she would always be there with him.

**End.**

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**Author's Note 2:** I hope you enjoyed, and reviews would be greatly appreciated! :)


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